Dancing
by fayzalmoonbeam
Summary: (Tomb Raider Movie Fic) Complete 4th August A happy ending for our favourite couple LaraHillary.
1. Default Chapter

Dancing

Rating: 15/R (for later smut!)  
Pairing: Lara/Hillary  
Summary and disclaimer: 8/4/04 I've spent some time putting into place some changes that my wonderful beta reader Evelyn has suggested-and I think it makes the whole thing a lot tighter and more refined. Thanks for taking on such a monster fic, Evelyn!

I don't own either of them or anything to do with Tomb Raider but I do covet Hillary's sleeves! Chesney Hawkes owns the lyrics to the wonderful "Seven of Sundays". Thanks for such a beautiful song!  
Before both of the movies, twenty two year old Lara takes dancing lessons with our favourite butler. No plot, just fluff, and Hillary being a little emotional-possibly OOC? Let me know if I've overdone it and I'll rewrite-I aim to please! :)

"Bloody hell, Hilly, this is ridiculous!" Lara grumbled, her bare feet once again colliding with those of her butler. They had abandoned their shoes two hours ago, after it became perfectly obvious that Lara's high-heeled dance shoes were going to do more damage to Hillary's ankles and shins than a peckish Yorkshire terrier.  
  
"Patience, my Lady," Hillary soothed, not for the first time. "It just takes a little practise to get these formal dances right." He readjusted his hand, delicately placed on Lara's waist, as she prepared to begin the waltz once more. It was known well to them both that Lara had very little patience with skills she could not master immediately-and so every ounce of Hillary's diplomatic skills had been called into play to encourage her to continue.  
  
"I don't see why I have to learn all this rubbish," Lara complained again. "It's not as if the Ambassador will pay any attention to me anyway-there are going to be far more interesting people at the ball than me, and more people who are closer in line to the British throne!"

She looked down at her feet, wondering why the theoretical skills of dancing seemed to be lost in translation every time she tried to put them into practise. "I can ride horses, swing from any manner of chandeliers, do three kinds of martial art and tie a sheet bend in a thunderstorm-why the hell do I have to learn to waltz as well?" Clearly not amused by her own feet, she looked back up at her butler. Even in socks he was at least four inches taller than she, something she hadn't noticed until now, when he was so close to her. Although they frequently trained and sparred together, it wasn't often that she was so close to him physically, and she couldn't help noticing how broad he was in the shoulder, and how the five o'clock shadow on his jaw line made his face seem more rugged. Blushing slightly, she was glad that Hillary seemed momentarily oblivious to her scrutiny.  
  
In fact, Hillary merely smiled wryly at her comments. "I hardly think a judo display in the middle of the Great Hall will impress the Ambassador," his eyes twinkled momentarily at her peeved expression. "Besides, waltzing is a skill you should have learned in childhood-I'm sure your father would have been ecstatic if tonight proves to be the night when you are swept off your feet by Prince Charming!"  
  
Lara smiled sadly. "I know," she sighed. "Daddy was always telling me to get some dancing practise in when I was a child-I was always more interested in climbing trees and helping out with the horses!" Her smile broadened a little. "He's probably having a real laugh now, wherever he is, if he's watching me."  
  
Sir Richard Croft had been missing for over a decade, and Lara still felt his absence keenly. At the age of twenty-two, when she was starting to consider her future, and the prospect of a career, and posisbly marriage and children had beckoned somewhere on the horizon, she needed her parents' guidance more than ever. The ambassador's ball was just one in a series of many formal occasions where she'd had to acquire or relearn a particular skill or custom, and instead of being partnered by her father in the practise, she was being coached by her long-time butler, and close friend, James Hillary.  
  
Hillary, or Hilly as Lara liked to call him, was the most constant person in her life. Much as she had loved her father, he was, more often than not, engaged in some business venture or global adventure, which might take him away from home for months at a time. The time she spent with her father had been precious in its rarity. Hillary, on the other hand, had always been at home, with a bandage and a cross word when she had hurt herself, or a cup of herbal tea and a willing ear when someone had hurt her.

She had often tried to categorise her relationship with Hillary, to put it into some convenient pigeonhole, but their connection defied conventional explanation. Her love for her father meant that she never quite saw Hillary as a replacement father figure; he was too old to be her older brother, and too…Hillary to be an object of desire (although she would admit, but only to herself, that the sight of his near naked body as he was dressing one morning, many years ago, did fuel her fantasies for a little while. She was fourteen, he was twenty-six and she'd tizzily burst in on him in because she couldn't find her favourite black jodhpurs for an early morning ride. He had been dressing for work and, undeterred by her sudden entrance, had thrown on his dressing gown and dug the jodhpurs out from the clean washing pile. She had to admit, then, that a man who could find her clean clothes within ten seconds and be able to disguise such a hard, long limbed body under his uniform, was worth having a private fantasy or two about). So Hillary was an enigma to Lara. He was just there.  
  
"Bugger it!" Lara huffed as she stepped, yet again on Hillary's foot. "This is bloody ridiculous. We need to stop this. Now." As if on cue, the classical CD that had been chosen by Lara's previous dance teacher (who'd lasted all of fifteen minutes before he, but thankfully not the CD, had been thrown out of Croft Manor), flipped over and the gentle strains of one of Lara's current favourite songs floated through the room.  
  
_"It's alright, gotta tell myself it's alright/Everything that I envy; I have become…" _As the singer's gentle, mellow tone floated through the drawing room, Lara paused for a moment. Then, feeling somewhat soothed by the change in music, she readjusted her hand on Hillary's shoulder. "You see," she said quietly, "if the Ambassador was playing something like this at the party, this whole dancing thing wouldn't be an issue."  
  
"Be that as it may, Lady Croft, I really think that…"  
  
"Sssh for a moment, Hilly," Lara coaxed, drawing closer to her butler. "We need a rest." Just as she had when she was a young girl, she snuggled closer to Hillary, her arms wrapping protectively around his waist. "I remember when you used to stand in for Daddy during those enforced dance practises when I was a child." She paused, and looked up at Hillary. "You were about a foot and a half taller than me and you had so much patience." She smiled up at her butler, but Hillary didn't smile back.  
  
"Lady Croft," Hillary replied, his voice careful, measured. "This is most improper. My remit was only to refresh your memory about dance steps. I have work to attend to." He pulled away from her, disentangling himself from her long, graceful arms.  
  
"What's the matter, Hilly?" Lara said, embarrassed and concerned. "Have I done some thing to offend you?" She tried to reach for his arm, but he pulled away. Lara turned hurt eyes towards her butler and friend. "Please, tell me what's wrong."  
  
Hillary looked uncomfortable for a moment; it was a look that Lara caught flickering across his face before he disguised his emotions with the amiable mask he always wore. "Nothing wrong, my Lady," he said quickly. "I'll be attending to the preparations for dinner if you need me." He turned on his heel and strode hurriedly from the room.

Chapter 2 Return to Fayza's fanfic page.


	2. Ambassador's Ball

Chapter 2

Summary and Author's Note: This is a slow buildup to the inevitable Hillary/Lara stuff, but I hope that, in the pursuit of a good tale, this can be forgiven. As I've just been re-reading Jilly Cooper's novels I couldn't resist sneaking in Rupert and Taggie-somehow their world and the world of Lara Croft seem to fit together quite neatly (to my mind at least!). Love to know what you think!

Rating: PG at the mo. Higher for later chapters.

Whatever Lara's questions about Hillary's behaviour were, she had no choice but to put them on hold for the rest of the day, and into the evening. She hurriedly towelled herself dry, cursing the fact that she was running late after spending time with her favourite horse in the stables. The briefest of showers had removed most of the grime, and she hoped that she wouldn't be close enough to the ambassador for him to notice the darkening bruise on her upper arm where the horse had accidentally tossed its head and caught her. As she quickly donned underwear and her dress, she checked the clock in her bedroom, wishing that she could forward time to the end of the evening without actually having to live through it.

The dress she (or rather Hillary) had chosen was long and dark, a sheath of chocolate brown velvet that complimented her dark eyes and fair skin. Strapless, it clung to every curve of her body but was demure enough to avoid showing too much of Lara's rather ample cleavage. Simple sandals completed the outfit and as she quickly twisted up her hair into a chignon, Lara's beautiful long neck was emphasised by the ensemble. The bare minimum of makeup and she was ready, on the outside at least, to face her guests and the ambassador.

As Lara wandered out into the hallway, she saw Hillary in the Great hall below, checking, for what was probably the hundredth time, that everything was in place. Not wanting to disturb him, she walked slowly down the large wooden staircase, admiring the way that the Great Hall had been transformed for the evening. Just as she reached the half way point in the staircase, Hillary looked up,

Was it Lara's imagination, or did she see Hillary's hand tremble slightly as he adjusted one of the flower arrangements on the Great Hall table? One thing she could be certain of, as she continued down the stairs, was that he was certainly surprised. _Odd,_ thought Lara. _I mean, he chose the dress!_

"Will I do, Hilly?" She asked him playfully, taking advantage of his moment of speechlessness.

"You look lovely," Hillary replied, when he had found his voice once more. "It's a pity you don't make the effort more often-you always look so splendid when you do." He drew his hand away from the flower arrangement, as if he had temporarily forgotten it was there.

"Thanks," Lara replied wryly. "How much time until kick off?"

"About fifteen minutes," Hillary said, checking his watch. "Can I get you a drink, My Lady?"

Lara nodded. It amused and intrigued her somewhat that as Hillary poured the glass of champagne for her, once again his hands seemed to shake.

Half an hour later, she was the picture of the perfect hostess. The party was going swimmingly, every guest had enough to eat and drink, and Lara was circulating the room as if this was the most natural thing in the world. _Daddy would be so proud_ she thought wryly as she was accosted by yet another Harrow-educated chinless son-of-an-earl.

"Lady Croft, how simply dee-lightful to see yaw!" the old Harrovian brayed, taking Lara's hand and shaking it for all it was worth. "Jolly good party this is, and I hear the Ambassador will be putting in an appearance soon as well!"

"Good to see you too, Henry," Lara replied, politely disentangling herself from his grasp. "I must go and check on the staff. Do help yourself to more champagne." Sighing with relief, Lara wandered away quickly, clocking the fact that Henry de la Mare, fifth Earl of Blagdon, had made every effort to stare down her dress. _Bloody men,_ she thought. Or, to be more precise, _bloody public schoolboys. _It didn't matter that the Croft family tree went back five generations in England, she was still a little uncomfortable with the whole class issue. Of course, she was no fool, she knew better than to mock a system inside which she had been brought up with honour and privilege, but that didn't make her any more patient (on the inside, at least) with those who could trace their lineage back to the Norman Conquest, and made no bones about telling everyone they could meet so.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Hillary circulating with a tray of champagne. Although he had no obligation to do so on these occasions, as there were plenty of hired hands brought in for the night, Lara knew that he liked to keep an eye on proceedings, and that this was a good way for him to do so unnoticed. He worked the room with practised grace, his immaculately pressed white shirt contrasting effortlessly with the dark tail coat and trousers. His long fingers held the silver tray delicately and he had mastered the art of being useful but unacknowledged. Lara watched him for a moment longer, feeling a sudden heat colour her face as she remembered the embarrassment she had felt that afternoon, before she remembered herself and continued to mingle.

A little while later, Lara was dancing with the elderly ambassador with relieved ease. He led her gracefully around the dance floor and chatted kindly to her as they danced. "It really is very kind of you to host this evening, Lady Croft," he said graciously as they spun round the floor to the music of the string quartet. "I am sure your father would have been proud of the young woman you have become."

"Thank you, Ambassador," Lara replied, smiling. She felt a great relief that at his kindness and civility. Here was a man who had seen many changes in the world in his lifetime, a man who had been a good friend of her father's. Suddenly the evening did not seem so arduous after all.

They parted when the music stopped, and the silver-haired ambassador bowed and, with a twinkle in his eye, kissed her hand. "I mustn't keep you from gentlemen who are far more energetic than I on the dance floor," he smiled. "Good evening to you Lady Croft."

Lara spent some time chatting with Rupert and Taggie Campbell-Black. She had been at school with Taggie's younger sister Caitlin and so knew Taggie's family very well. Rupert and her father had been associates during Rupert's show jumping days, and so she felt quite at home in his company. It had seemed only natural to invite them to the ball, and they were a welcome relief from the other guests.

"It's lovely to see you both," she said, hugging Taggie warmly and receiving the customary kiss on the mouth from Rupert. "How's Caitlin these days?"

"Oh, fine," replied Taggie, her beautiful face softening at the mention of her rebellious younger sister. "She's just given birth to her first child, a boy. She and Archie are over the moon."

"That's wonderful!" Lara replied. "I must give her a ring soon." For a moment, Lara felt wistful. Her friends were all moving on, finally 'growing up' if you will. She still had very little idea what she wanted to do with her life.

"Well, I must say you look stunning, sweetheart," Rupert said smoothly. "But then you've probably been hearing that all night." He mock shuddered as he looked around the room. "I don't think I've seen so much blue blood in one room since Edward and Sophie's wedding-bloody hell, old girl, your family has more connections than Southern Electricity!"

Lara laughed. Not many men got away with calling her 'sweetheart' but Rupert had known her since birth, so she let it slide. "So long as I don't get any marriage proposals from the de la Mare brothers, everything will be fine," she replied. "Henry's already tried it on at least twice this evening."

Rupert shuddered again, his clear blue eyes crinkling at the corners. "Fortune hunters, the lot of them," he said with relish. "Ravishing as you are, darling, I'd watch the family silver when they're around. The title is about all they've got left these days."

"Rupert!" Taggie said reprovingly. "Leave poor Lara alone." She smiled at Lara once more. Barely thirty, she didn't look a day older than Lara herself, but knew how to placate and handle her handsome husband.

"Thanks for making it tonight," Lara said, smiling at them both. "I'd better go and mingle." Hugging Taggie again, she strolled off to circulate.

The rest of the evening was a success, apart from Henry de la Mare coming back for another attempt at Lara's cleavage, and it wasn't long until the guests were beginning to depart. She politely wished person after person goodnight, until she was stood alone except for the staff that were wearily clearing up the debris. Slipping off her shoes, she padded quietly up the stairs to the drawing room, selected some soothing music and sat on the chaise lounge.

_"Where to now? Now that I have been lost and found/Buried in the afternoon/Breathless and snowbound..." _Once again the music soothed and relaxed her as she sipped the remnants of her last glass of champagne.

"My Lady?" Lara started suddenly at the break in her reverie, then relaxed as she realised who had called her.

"Hilly, is everything alright?" she replied.

"The staff are just finishing the clearing up, and I shall sort out their wages when they are finished," Hillary replied. He picked up Lara's now empty glass, "Can I offer you another drink?" He asked.

"No, thanks, Hilly, I'm fine. I just wanted to sit down and relax before calling it a night." She grinned up at her friend. "You were right about the dancing, it was fine."

Hillary smiled and Lara thought how attractive he was when he did. It was something that she didn't see very often, as his job required him to be alternately aloof and courteous. Normally there was little room for unguarded smiles.

"If there's nothing else I can assist you with, then I shall see to the staff and retire for the night," Hillary said, glancing at Lara once more.

"Goodnight Hilly," Lara said softly. She tucked her feet up underneath her and relaxed back onto the chaise lounge. Then without thinking, she added absently "Sweet dreams." She blushed as she looked up at him once more, and felt her face grow even hotter as she saw the look of surprise on Hillary's face. "Sorry, Hilly, I don't know where that came from! I must be more tired than I thought."

"That's quite alright, my Lady," Hillary recovered himself and turned to leave the drawing room. Lara sank further back onto the chaise lounge, closing her eyes in exhaustion. She heard Hillary softly open and close the door behind him, and she was sure it was her imagination that made her hear "Sweet dreams, Lara," through the creaking of the door.

On to Chapter 3 Return to Fayza's fanfic page.


	3. Dreaming

Chapter 3

A little smutty, this bit..

_Hair splayed wildly over the straw of the stable floor, the musky smell of sweaty horse permeating the air, a shaft of sunlight playing over the loose box, she lay. In the next stall, her favourite horse, Midnight, pawed the ground good naturedly, but she was oblivious to the sound and motion. The only thing she could focus on was the hard, muscled body of her lover. He leaned over her, teasing her with feather-light kisses that trailed from her lips, along the dip of her throat and down to her breasts. She arched her back, urging him to continue, and she could feel herself growing warmer with each caress. Guiding his lips back to her own, she kissed him with a fervour that made her moan and push herself against him, willing him with her body to keep touching her._

_Opening her eyes slightly, she met the enraptured gaze of her lover. His practised hands glided over her body until she was dizzy with need and desire. He ran a long-fingered hand through her raven hair and slowly made love to her, his lean, toned body interlocking perfectly with hers as they joined. "Hilly," she whispered again and again, unable to focus on anything other than the sensations she was experiencing…_

It was past two o'clock in the morning when Lara woke. Stiff-necked from falling asleep on the chaise lounge, she stretched gently and stood up. She knew she should go to bed, but now she was awake, her mind raced with the sense memory of the dream she had just had. She was pretty certain she'd woken with her butler's name on her lips, and she was confused and unnerved by the sensations that the dream had evoked in her.

Silently, she padded to the door of the drawing room and wandered out into the hall. The house was still, the lights were out and the cool silver of the full moon illuminated the hallway. The slight chill in the air made her shiver and reminded her that she needed to get to bed, so she walked as quickly as she could up the wide staircase and across the landing to her room.

Aware of the lateness of the hour, Lara discarded the dress and she wasted no time in curling up under her duvet, hoping that sleep would not elude her. However, the dream had left her in little mood for rest. Idly she caressed herself, her body still tingling from the physical remnants of the dream, her lips warm and desiring. She knew that she should get some sleep, but she could not get the imagined image of Hillary out of her mind.

All of a sudden, the man she thought she knew had assumed an erotic potential, and while her mind was too tired to analyse the situation, her body knew what it wanted. Him. The fanciful picture of his warm, elegant hands taking possession of her body, and the feel of his lips against her own, coupled with the almost-real sensation of his naked body entwining with hers was enough to send Lara shuddering to a sleepy orgasm at her own hand. Fantasy over, she sank further into her pillows and slept the sleep of the temporarily satisfied.

On to Chapter 4 Return to Fayza's fanfic page.


	4. Existing

Chapter 4

Summary: This is turning into an epic! More slow burn with some fun little moments. The Butler's Rulebook I owe to Dreamweaver 74. Her great fanfic can be found here. I hope she doesn't mind my quoting her! This chapter's for all of the people on the Chris Barrie BBS, especially Symbimorph, who have inspired me to write a lot more quickly and get this story where it needs to go! Big thanks also to Symbi, who provided the absolutely stunning icon that now graces the title of this story-you're a star!

There must have been a moment, Lara reflected upon waking the next morning, when she stopped seeing Hillary as the stolid, dependable, reliable butler and began to see him as something infinitely more interesting. Stretching luxuriously, catlike in her sleepiness, she eased back the duvet and stepped onto the plush carpeted floor. Wandering across her bedroom, long dark hair falling in an untidy cascade over her shoulders and down her back, she entered her bathroom and turned on the shower. The warm jets soothed away the last of her tiredness, and as she turned the dial for a final blast of icy water, she pondered on the shift in her relationship with Hillary.

To be fair, she thought, nothing had changed in terms of their physical presence in the house. Alright, so she'd let a few words slip carelessly past her lips in an unguarded moment, and had a rather colourful dream about him, but to all intents and purposes, their relationship should be the same as it ever was. But was it? And was that what she wanted?

Years of etiquette and protocol had taught her that one didn't fall in love with the staff; in fact, she could recall the lightning fast dismissal of a stable boy on the Croft estate after she had been caught kissing him in one of the loose boxes. Barely fifteen, she had sobbed for days, but she had had to resign herself to the fact that that was the way it was. But surely things were different now? She was lady of the manor, and she could do what she wished. Oh, if only that were true.

Deciding that a ride across the estate was in order, Lara donned black jodhpurs and a black t-shirt. She strolled downstairs and, rather than disturb Hillary, she decided to leave breakfast until she returned from her ride. Taking a most unladylike swig from the milk bottle in the fridge on her way out, she headed out to the stables.

Walking briskly out of the kitchen door, she didn't hear Hillary sighing in mock-irritation. As she left, he took another bottle of milk out of one of the smaller fridges in the kitchen and replaced the one Lara had drunk from. Any casual onlooker would have caught the words "Ladylike...behaviour...learn..." among other things as he continued with his duties.

Some time later, her previous thoughts seemed a world away as she cantered easily over the Croft estate. Having been put in the saddle almost before she could walk, she hadn't bothered with a hat. Midnight, tallest horse in the stable at a gigantic 17.5 hands, was also the most responsive and Lara felt his muscles react to her gentle nudges without too much effort. Kicking him on a little more, she adjusted her seat as his canter turned to a gallop and he took off.

The wind whipped her hair as she rode, and all she could focus on was the sensation of the horse's easy power. If only it was that straightforward to communicate with the men in her life. A little kick and Midnight was off. Somehow she knew communicating with Hillary might take a little more than a nudge to the ribs.

When Lara returned to the stables, she handed the reins to John, the head groom, but then spent some time helping him to cool the horse down and get him settled. As she rubbed down his legs and brushed the knots out of his mane, she chatted away to the horse, wishing that she knew what to say to Hillary. She'd been out for a few hours now, and she was getting peckish. As soon as she'd finished with Midnight, she wandered back into the house.

"My Lady," Hillary, waiting in the entrance hall, greeted her formally, his features carefully composed, a cross between friendly and efficient; the amiable mask he usually wore.

"Hilly," Lara replied as they walked through to the drawing room. "Any post?"

"Only the usual requests for you to attend the usual fundraisers for the usual good causes," he replied. Was that a teasing twinkle in his eye?

Lara sighed, then smiled ruefully. "I think I've done my bit for the social calendar after last night," she said. "The usual thanks-but-no-thanks response for now will suffice."

"Would you care for some lunch, my lady?" Hillary asked. "I noticed that you went straight out this morning without breakfast." He was wearing the mother-hen look now; the chide was evident in his tone.

"Thanks, Hilly, but I'll grab a sandwich myself a bit later," Lara replied. The sight of her butler had made her previous appetite fade away once more.

"If I might suggest Lara, I really think that…"

"I said, I'm fine, Hilly." The words came out slightly more curtly than Lara had intended, and she had to turn away quickly before Hillary noticed her ashamed expression.

Pause. Almost imperceptibly, the dynamic changed between them.

"Very well, Lady Croft. I will be in the kitchen if you need me." Hillary bowed automatically, although Lara's back was turned, and left the room.

"Damnit!" Lara cursed as he left. "What the bloody hell is wrong with me?" She shook her head in bewilderment. She hadn't snapped at anyone like that, much less Hillary, since she was a stroppy teenager. At least back then she could blame her hormones; what excuse did she have now?

She spent the afternoon prowling the house like a caged cougar. Having finished her degree the past summer, she had yet to decide what to do with the rest of her life. The Archaeology course had been great fun, but she was under no pressure to make any hard and fast career decisions, mostly due to the trust fund that had matured that past Christmas. Unfortunately, that did mean she was left with a lot of time on her hands. On a day like today, when she was beginning to feel the stirrings of a quite unsuitable emotional turmoil, time was something of which she had rather too much.

Flitting from one thing to another, she was guiltily grateful when the clock in Great Hall struck six. Changing out of her riding clothes and into a pair of silk pajamas that were still elegant enough to be classed as day wear, she counted the chimes. As its mournful bell sounded six, Lara went to her small sitting room and poured herself a generous glass of dry sherry. Taking a sip, she settled down to await Hillary.

The custom, honed to a fine art over the years, was that she would wait in the drawing room and he would enter at around seven o'clock and ask her what she wanted for dinner. She would then choose from a selection of wholesome, nourishing dishes and in an hour, she would go to the dinner table in the corner of the drawing room and eat. Insanely predictable it might be, but to Lara, this evening ritual had now taken on a new importance. There had to be something that was still stable.

At precisely seven o'clock, Hillary knocked and entered the room. He was calm and efficient as always, and Lara noticed how the forest green satin waistcoat complimented his gentle hazel eyes. His long legs were, as usual, encased in immaculately cut pin striped trousers, and his elegant hands hung loosely, but neatly, at his sides. His neatly combed hair was also perfect, although Lara noted that the one time she'd seen it ruffled and unruly, that early morning all those years ago, she had far preferred it that way. He looked no different to any other night when she had seen him, and yet, she felt as though she were looking at him with new eyes.

"Cook has outdone herself tonight, my Lady," Hillary began, all efficiency. "She noted that you had not eaten all day, and so she has prepared a warming chicken chasseur, complete with creamed mashed potatoes."

Lara mock-grimaced. "And who was responsible for telling Mrs Bainbridge that I hadn't eaten all day, Hilly?" She took rather large gulp of her sherry, and spluttered, cursing inwardly.

Hillary smiled slightly. "I promised your father I would attend to your wellbeing, Lady Croft. I believe that includes ensuring that you get three meals a day." Hillary walked to the decanter and brought it over to pour Lara another drink. She smiled in embarrassment and held out her glass. As she did so, most uncharacteristically, her hand shook and she spilled the contents of her half-full glass onto her lap, splashing Hillary's trousers.

"Bugger!" Lara exclaimed, swatting at her own cream trousers in irritation. She started as Hillary's hand, brandishing an immaculately pressed white handkerchief, mopped away the sherry from her lap. Was it her imagination, or did his warm hand linger a little too long on her thigh?

"It's OK, Hilly, I'll sort it out later," Lara replied, a touch breathlessly. "Probably a good idea not to have too much more of the sherry!" She grasped Hillary's hand where it still lay, ostensibly to return his handkerchief. In the second it took Lara to speak, in the eternal pause between one action and another, hazel-green eyes locked with dilated, pleasure seeking velvet brown pupils, and a kind of truth became clear to Lady Lara Croft. "Thank you, Hilly," she breathed, all too aware that her hand still held his in place on her thigh. "I appreciate your kindness."

Was that a blush that coloured Hillary's face as they broke apart? Whatever it was, Lara reflected, he couldn't wait to get away from her. "I shall tell Cook that you'll have the chasseur," he said hurriedly as he stood back up and, most uncharacteristically for Hillary, he did not wait to be dismissed. In fact, Lara observed, he almost seemed to scuttle from the room. Lara settled back onto the chaise lounge once more, confused and vaguely guilty. What was she to do now?

If it was possible to see through walls, Lara would have seen James Hillary stop short outside Lara's private drawing room, and, just for a moment, let his guard down. He leaned against the cool stone wall, his usually steady hands trembling. "Remember the Butler's rulebook," he muttered to himself as he paused. "Remember rule number five, for God's sake man…"

Chapter 5 Return to Fayza's fanfic page.


	5. Battling

Chapter 5

Summary: Lara gets her first adventure and Hillary is becoming increasingly elusive. Will they ever stop skirting around their feelings? Well, not for one more chapter, at least!

Three quarters of an hour later, Lara was disappointed that, when there was a knock at her drawing room door, it wasn't Hillary on the other side, but instead it was the kindly cook, Mrs Bainbridge.

"Mr Hillary apologises, ma'am, for being unable to attend you this evening, but some urgent matters have arisen to which he must attend." Mrs Bainbridge smiled consolingly. "However, he did say that I must ensure that you eat all of your dinner." She placed the delicious dish of chicken chasseur onto Lara's small dining table and busied herself laying out the proper cutlery.

Lara sighed. "Thank you Mrs Bainbridge," she replied. "Did Hillary say what these matters were that he had to sort out?"

Mrs Bainbridge looked uncomfortable for a moment. "No, my Lady, merely that I should ensure that you had everything you needed for tonight." She exited the room hurriedly and Lara settled down to dinner. There was nothing else she could do for the moment, and, even if she could have spent more time with Hillary, would she be any the wiser?

The next morning, having received a letter from Jacqueline Natla, Lara was distracted enough to forget her confusion over Hillary for a time. Natla Technologies, of which Jacqueline Natla was CEO, had offered her quite a substantial sum of money to trace a mysterious Peruvian artefact. Lara was so intrigued she'd have done the job for free, but it did mean that she needed to get into shape, and fast. She would be shipping out to Peru in a fortnight, and she would need Hillary's help to shed the few pounds she'd put on since university.

Thankfully, Lara had spent time in the Marines during her gap year and so she had mastered the art of maximising her strength and energy. She just needed some intensive training to get back into peak condition before she took up Natla's commission. Two weeks of non-stop cardio and muscular exercise should see her back at peak fitness once more. It was going to be a tough fortnight, but Lara knew that she could rise to the challenge.

Hillary, aside from being Lara's butler, was also chief physical trainer. He'd developed the role when Lara had been home from university and, during her holidays he had helped keep her practically at Marine-level fitness. Ostensibly this was just in case she decided that a career in the military was the path to take, and now that it looked as though Lara was going to take up what some would refer to as "extreme archaeology", the training was going to pay off.

For the next ten days, from the moment Lara got up to the time the sun set, she was training and reading up on the task ahead. Hillary was a relentless trainer, well versed as he was in kendo stick fighting, fencing and tai chi. He was also an excellent marksman and counted archery and rifle shooting among his talents. It wasn't long before Lara was almost back to her Marine fitness levels.

With two days to go before she left for Peru, Lara and Hillary were fencing in the larger training room. They'd discarded their protective headgear and they were evenly matched as they fought and parried in the fading light. Any darker and the setting sun would introduce a new hazard to the game, but for the moment they were safe.

"Has Natla said what she wants the artefact for?" Hillary asked as they fought. Beads of sweat were forming on his brow, as they had been parrying for around twenty minutes.

"Not a thing-and I doubt that she will," Lara replied, blocking his attack easily. "I don't think she's in the habit of telling employees her motives." She shook her head impatiently as a stray lock of dark hair got into her eyes. Cursing inwardly, she winced as Hillary took the advantage and struck a blow to her upper body. It wasn't intended to hurt, but Lara's pride was wounded.

"You will be careful, won't you Lara?" Hillary said as Lara surged forward with renewed energy.

"Aren't I always?" Lara smiled, sensing her advantage. She looked thoughtful for a moment. "One thing worries me, though."

"Oh yes?" Hillary looked concerned. "What's that?"

"Why you've been so distant with me for the past few days." Lara parried, then struck.

Hillary's gaze flickered. "You've spent every day training with me. I hardly think you can accuse me of that."

"You know what I mean, Hilly," Lara thrust again. "Since that night in the drawing room, you've only spoken to me when absolutely necessary."

"I am merely performing the same duties as I always have, my Lady." Hillary replied, a touch defensively. Aware that he was being beaten back, he made the error of stepping backwards as Lara came for him once more. Before they both knew it, she had knocked him to the floor.

Straddling Hillary, sweating from the exertion of their training session and propelled with a mixture of frustration and aggression, Lara panted. "Are you going to tell me now what's been bothering you for the past few days?"

Hillary tried to shift out of her grip, but Lara's thighs merely tightened around his own as she felt him move. She began to realise that it wasn't just her question that made him want to escape from her; the sensation of her heated body pressing against his so intimately was having an interesting effect on him, and she felt herself become increasingly aroused by his evident excitement.

"Lara, this is not the time or the place…" Hillary began, but judging from the look on his face, he knew it was useless.

"It seems to me that this is the perfect time and place," Lara replied, her voice husky with newly awakened desire.

Then, without warning, Hillary heaved himself up from underneath her and grabbed her by the arms. Surprised by his sudden show of strength, Lara found herself thrown over onto her back, arms pushed behind her head. The glimmer of satisfaction infused with arousal was evident in his eyes as he looked down at her.

"Alright," Hillary conceded, now that Lara was at his mercy. "I'll tell you what's been on my mind, but I don't think you're going to like it much." He pinned her more firmly and she felt his muscular legs straddling hers in a highly charged inversion of their previous position. Lara struggled for a moment against the iron grip of his thighs and hands, but, weakened by a sudden, hopeless desire, she was forced to stay put.

"Well?" Lara breathed, taking in the heady, aroused scent of the man who held her, feeling her lips begin to tingle and her body respond to his closeness. Just a few inches closer and their lips would be touching…

Hillary took a deep breath. "I think you're too far off your game to go to Peru." He stated. "You've been eating too much chocolate and drinking too much sherry. It's about time you sharpened up your skills." Giving her wrists a final squeeze, Hillary leapt off her and held out his hand to help her up.

Lara was outraged. "Off my game? You're off your bloody head, more like it!" She brushed his hand aside and stood up. "How dare you criticise me like that? If I am a little slow, which I am not, then it's down to your fussing and nothing more." Furiously, she grabbed her foil and launched another attack, which had Hillary up against the wall in a manner of seconds. "Does this look like I'm off my game to you?" Frustration made her more aggressive and she pinned him with more force than was absolutely necessary.

"Lara," Hillary panted. "If you get any closer to the wall, then I'll be through the other side of it."

Grudgingly she released him. "This isn't over." She said flatly.

"It looks that way to me," Hillary replied, trying to be flippant but only half succeeding. "Now, what would you like for dinner?"

As Hillary left the room, Lara screamed and threw her fencing foil after him. 

Chapter 6 coming soon! Return to Fayza's Fanfic page


	6. Union

Chapter 6:

Summary: And finally…those of you who have been in for the long haul get your erotic payoff! Not too explicit actually, somehow that wouldn't be appropriate for our favourite couple, but steamy and suggestive enough…

The day before she was due to fly out to Peru, Lara was more restless than she had ever been. Ever since her confrontation with Hillary in the training room, she had remained keyed up and confused about her feelings. She kept thinking back to how she felt when she was crushed beneath him; how good it felt to have his body pressed against hers and how she'd wished that they could stay that way forever. She knew that he found her attractive, and that his sudden burst of dominance when he had pinned her to the floor was his way of hiding his own arousal at her presence. She also knew exactly why he had refused to discuss the changing dynamic in their relationship; it wasn't his place.

Well, bugger what he thought his place was. She was off to Peru tomorrow for God knew how long, and she didn't want this…_thing…_whatever it was, hanging over her head, distracting her from her mission. She resolved to have it out with Hillary before she left in the morning.

The afternoon was hot and muggy, and Lara could feel the humidity in the air like a warm blanket. As she descended to the lower levels of the Manor, she felt the temperature drop to a more manageable cool, and was immediately soothed. She had arranged to meet Hillary in the cellar, to carry out the last checks of the equipment that she needed to take with her to Peru. She intended to travel light but defensively, with the bare minimum of supplies, a first aid kit and a pair of pistols. As she descended the steps to the cellar where the equipment was being kept, she had the advantage over Hillary, who was bent over her rucksack on the ancient worktable. Lara took a moment to admire Hillary's broad back in the beautifully cut tailcoat and to fantasise about touching the exposed nape of his neck as he busied himself with the contents of the rucksack. In the far corner of the room lay an old settee, so covered with cobwebs that its Axminster pattern could barely be distinguished. Overspill from the wine cellar in the next cavernous room lay stacked neatly in wooden racks on the right hand wall and the dust over the candelabra bulbs gave the room a cosier glow than it deserved (rumour had it that after the invention of electricity the fourth Lord Croft had had the electric candelabra installed so that he could seduce his wife's maidservants in the cellar under new-fangled electric light).

"Is everything ready?" She asked Hillary from her vantage point on the stairs.

Hillary started at her voice, as if he had been lost in some private reverie. "Yes, my Lady, everything is as it should be." He turned away from the table to face her as she walked across the room to the table. The hazy light of the candelabra softened the contours of his face and cast a warm glow over his skin. Lara took a deep breath and joined him by the table.

Checking the straps of the rucksack, Lara picked up the two pistols and checked the chambers. Finding everything was in its place, she took hold of the neatly folded map that had been put in the front pocket of the rucksack and frowned in concentration. "So _this_ is where the helicopter is setting me down, give or take a few miles," she said, pointing to a region of the map. "And _there_ is where I need to get to on foot." She felt Hillary looking over her left shoulder, and shivered at the sensation of his breath on her neck. Self-consciously, she draped her long ebony plait over the other shoulder so that her neck was further revealed to him.

"Do you see the amount of woodland I'll have to get through between those two places?" Lara murmured, only half-concentrating on the map. Hillary moved a little closer so that he could see more clearly.

"You'll have a pretty hard time getting through that, Lara, it's not woodland, it's solid rock," Hillary corrected with a smile.

"Are you sure?" Lara asked, knowing he was right.

"Of course, look, here's the symbol for woodland, and it's totally different." Hillary reached across the map and pointed to another area. In doing so, his arm brushed Lara's breast. She jumped as if burned by his touch. Hillary blushed.

"I think you're right," Lara replied softly. She looked up at Hillary, who was still pointing somewhat redundantly at the map. "As you are about so many things." Turning slightly, so that she faced him, she looked up into his eyes. Darkened by the soft glow of the candelabra, they looked like two emerald pools flecked with amber. And Hillary's pupils weren't just dilated because of the dim light. He cleared his throat and made to step away from her, but she placed a hand on his arm.

"Did you mean it when you said you thought I was out of shape?" Lara asked him softly. She moved her hand a little further up his arm.

"Well…um…you have been a little…overindulgent lately," Hillary stammered, unnerved by Lara's closeness.

"Really?" Lara asked, her voice little more than a husky whisper. "And how would it make you feel if I overindulged a bit more?" Her insistent fingers worked their way up to Hillary's shoulder. "How would it make you feel if I felt the need to sate myself totally?" Gently, she began to caress the back of Hillary's neck, stroking his short hair and feeling the familiar shudder down the back of her own.

"Lara…please…" Hillary said weakly as her cool fingers stroked and caressed.

"Tell me how you would feel," Lara repeated, drawing closer to Hillary. Her other hand rested lightly against his chest and gently found its way under his tailcoat.

"How would you feel if I wanted to gorge myself until I couldn't take any more?" Her voice was barely audible as she leaned forwards. Slowly and deliberately, she moved closer to Hillary's lips until there was scarcely a breath between them.

"How about…" But her sentence was left in mid air as, with a desperate crushing of lips, Hillary took hold of her, and the situation.

Lara was off guard for a moment, unused to having control taken from her so suddenly. But she had little opportunity for contemplation as she responded ecstatically to his kiss. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she felt Hillary's tongue probing between her lips and she melted against him, a current of pure electricity running up and down her spine and through her body. She heard Hillary moan as he pulled her even closer, grinding his body against hers until they must become one. In moments she was white hot with desire, and from the way that Hillary's hands ran up and down her body, she knew that he wanted her just as badly.

Apprehensive of just how much the aged worktable could take, Lara tried to concentrate once more and, between furious kisses, guided Hillary to the old settee. Trying to push him back against the seat, he countered her and she found herself underneath him for the second time in two days. There was no denying his arousal now, as she lay beneath him. His hands stroked the hair from her eyes and by some miracle managed to unravel the plait that trailed over her right shoulder until her raven mane was loose.

"I want you so much," Lara whispered breathlessly, running her hands through his already dishevelled hair. She began to undo the buttons of his white shirt as Hillary's hands slipped the t-shirt she was wearing over her head, and in very little time their clothes were in a pile on the cellar floor.

"I want you too, Lara," Hillary replied, himself gasping for breath. His usually calm features were flushed with desire and the raw need in his eyes was almost painful. This was a battle that he was unused to fighting, and Lara knew at that moment that he loved her.

They made love with a passion that neither had ever experienced before. Their years of living and training side by side had given them an instinctive rhythm that guided them to a union that was both passionate and tender. As they kissed and caressed with a desperation borne of long-held desire, to Lara, nothing had ever felt so right. Her body responded instinctively to Hillary's touches and she explored his body with the wonderment of one who sees suddenly with new eyes. To her, everything about him was perfect, from his wavy, wildly untidy hair to the lean length of his naked, muscled thighs. For one moment, dominated by Hillary completely, Lara cried out in ecstasy as they became one before her own body rode a crescendo of sensation in time with his. As they both reached the peak of their pleasure, Lara called out again and again, her voice echoing around the cavernous Croft cellar.

Eventually, they rested. Too exhausted to think, Lara lay in Hillary's arms on the old settee. "Have you any idea how long I've wanted to do that?" she asked him, a gentle smile on her face.

"Hopefully as long as I have," Hillary replied, stroking her long dark hair.

Propping herself up on one elbow, Lara looked down into Hillary's green eyes. "I don't have to go to Peru, you know," she said quietly.

Hillary frowned. "Oh yes you do-you gave your word to Jacqueline Natla." He sat up awkwardly. "And we must make sure that you have everything you need to return safely." Gathering up his clothes, he shrugged quickly into his shirt and other garments and passed Lara her jeans and t-shirt.

The passionate spell that had been cast over them had broken; Lara hoped it was only temporary. In a daze, she watched Hillary finish buttoning up his shirt and then put her own clothes back on. She had the vaguest sense of unease, but she tried to brush it aside as she got ready to go back to the main part of the house.

"Hillary?" She questioned, hating the fact that she could hear the insecurity in her own voice.

Hillary didn't quite meet her gaze. "I'll see Cook and arrange some dinner for you," he said quietly as he walked up the stairs to the main house.

Lara watched Hillary's rapidly retreating back and, trying her best to quell her worry at his sudden departure, wandered back up the stairs to her own room.

> > Chapter 7 coming soon! Return to Fayza's Fanfic page


	7. Tearing

Chapter 7: Tearing

Summary: The paradise that Lara and Hillary reached in Chapter 6 is just about to go sour...but fear not, there will be a happy ending, I promise! Get your tissues ready, folks!

Later that evening, too tense to eat, Lara prowled the house. Since his rapid departure from the cellar three hours ago, she had seen neither hide nor hair of Hillary, who had made himself particularly elusive. Lara desperately needed reassurance that his feelings for her hadn't changed, but every time she tried to find him, she was told by Mrs Bainbridge that he had gone out. The kindly cook's eyes shone with sympathy for her young mistress as she saw her confusion, but she could not offer Lara any further enlightenment as to Hillary's whereabouts.

_How can he bloody well have gone out?_ Lara thought, her emotions a mixture of panic and despair. She wanted to talk to Hillary so much that even the thought of her imminent adventure in Peru was not enough to distract her. Mindlessly, she looked over the last minute paperwork that Jacqueline Natla had faxed through, but after ten minutes of looking at the same page she gave in. Eventually, at around ten in the evening, she could bear it no longer and she ventured down to Hillary's private rooms. She knew her presence in the lower regions of the house was highly irregular, but she was past caring for protocol.

"Hillary!" Lara called as she wandered down the stairs to where Hillary resided in his small suite of rooms. She could tell that Mrs Bainbridge had long since gone home as the main kitchen was in darkness, and there didn't seem to be anyone else around.

"Hillary!" Still no answer. She called again. Nothing still. Hesitantly she padded down the corridor, passing the small kitchen annexe where Hillary cooked for himself and then the slightly larger study and sitting room where she imagined he spent his evenings. Eventually he came to the bedroom. Still no sound from within. She knocked gingerly, calling his name once more.

Slowly, trying not to feel like an intruder, Lara pushed open the door to the bedroom. It was immaculately tidy, as she had often imagined it would be, and the furniture was simple but elegant. But that wasn't what caught her attention. The open suitcase on the bed and Hillary sat next to it, his head in his hands, made her heart lurch instantly. His shoulders were hunched, and he looked totally oblivious to her intrusion.

"Hillary?" Lara questioned softly, still hovering in the doorway.

Finally, Hillary seemed to hear her.

"Lara. Was there something you needed?" His voice was tired, strained, and as he lifted his head, Lara noticed the dark lines under his eyes and the grey pallor to his skin. Was she imagining it, or did she see his hands tremble as he placed them firmly in his lap? He didn't stand to greet her.

"What's the matter?" She asked him gently.

"Everything's fine," Hillary smiled wanly. "I'm merely packing my things before I leave tomorrow."

Lara convulsively gripped the doorframe for support. This couldn't be happening. She felt her heart leap straight into her mouth and a sick feeling beginning in her stomach. "I'm sorry, Hillary," she finally managed. "Did you just say what I thought you did?"

Hillary stood up, and for one blissful, misguided moment, Lara thought he was crossing the room to take her in his arms. But alas, not: he was merely taking a few things from the chest of drawers to the right of her. "A position has opened up at Lord Montague's residence in Hampshire. I begin in two days time." His voice had the self-consciously steady edge of someone who was trying desperately not to lose his composure. "I was going to write you my resignation note while you were out in Peru, so you wouldn't be entirely shocked to see another butler in residence when you got home." He placed the few possessions from the top of the chest of drawers into the suitcase and reached back over for the final thing-an ancient hairbrush. "After all, I do feel it's better for both of us this way, don't you?"

Lara was aghast, and suddenly angry. "So you were going to just leave and not tell me?" she demanded. Marching to Hillary's side, she tore the hairbrush he'd picked up out of his hand. "Don't mind me, I'm only your employer!" She threw the brush into the case. "Or were you just planning to disappear into the night? I mean, you've only served my family for what, fifteen years? No reason to speak to me at all." She was in full flow now, all of the frustration and anger she had kept pent all afternoon and evening spilling out of her. She knew it was totally irrational to pull rank on Hillary after their experiences in the cellar, but, as she felt the ground begin to shake underneath her, it was all she had left.

Hillary turned towards her, unsmiling. "Lara, you must have known that, after all that's happened between us it wouldn't be fitting for me to continue as your servant. There are lines that should not be crossed, and I made an error of judgement." His voice was softer now, but there was no placating Lara.

"An error of judgement?" Lara shouted. "Is that what you call it? It's good, at last, that I know where I stand, and what I mean to you!" She turned angry, tear filled eyes upwards towards the man in front of her. Reflexively, quick as a flash, she tried to slap his face.

Just as quickly, before Lara's hand could connect with his cheek, Hillary grabbed it. There was a pause that felt to both of them like an eternity. Lara could feel Hillary trembling, his hands giving away what the carefully composed features did not. "Lara, please, don't do this." Their eyes met, and the electricity between them was almost palpable. As Hillary released her hand, she let it drop to her side. It was all she could do to prevent herself from collapsing into his arms and begging him to stay.

"I don't understand," Lara whispered. "Why are you leaving me now? I need you. Hilly, please."

"I must go," Hillary said. "I've abused your trust and my own position. What we did was unforgivable; it broke every rule in the book." He looked away from her, blinking furiously.

"Oh, sod the bloody rule book!" Lara replied. "I don't care if what we did was enough to send the thing up in flames. I love you, Hillary, don't you see?" She turned desperate eyes towards those of her friend and lover, forcing him to look at her once more. And then she knew. She _did _love him, and the thought of his leaving was enough to send her into a blind, and angry, panic.

Hillary's already pale face looked even more drained. "Lara, you don't know what you're saying," he said softly. "What we did was unforgivable; there's not one single piece of protocol left standing. My role in your life was merely to serve, as I served your father. I should never have allowed things to progress so far between us."

"No," Lara said, her voice trembling. "I won't let you take responsibility for this. I want _you_, Hilly, and we both knew exactly what we were doing. I can't believe that after everything that's happened you're just going to run away from me-from us."

"There can be no us, Lara," Hillary replied. "I'm sorry. I must go."

Stunned by his blunt response, Lara allowed Hillary to escort her from his room. She slowly mounted the stairs back to the main part of the house and, still reeling from the shock of Hillary's imminent departure, she wandered back into her own sitting room, sat on the chaise lounge and sobbed.

In the recesses of Croft Manor, James Hillary continued to pack his suitcase, but his own tears, as they fell silently, threatened to soak his immaculately folded clothes.

Chapter 8


	8. Reunion

Chapter 8: Reunited

Summary: Well, we're on the home straight now…and I'm afraid it's horribly predictable. But sometimes it's not the ending, but the journey that's important (or so they tell me!)

As the sun rose on another beautiful morning at Croft Manor, its cheerful light was deeply at odds with Lara's dark state of mind. She should have felt excited about the day, and the challenge ahead. Instead all she could feel was a dull, aching emptiness. What had she done wrong? No, that was unfair to herself; she knew. As far as she was concerned, she and Hillary had done nothing other than give in to their very strong feelings about one another, but she now knew that Hillary felt differently. Yesterday he had helped her to fly, today she felt as though he'd clipped her wings.

What the hell was she going to do? She had to leave for Peru in a little under twelve hours in order to arrive in the country under cover of darkness, and the last thing she wanted to do was leave, knowing that when she returned Hillary would be gone. She couldn't bear the thought of coming back to the house in two weeks with the knowledge that she would no longer see Hillary at the door to welcome her. But what could she do to avoid that situation?

On automatic pilot, she wandered down to her drawing room to take breakfast. Resting beside the silver tray, alongside her usual grapefruit juice, toast and cereal lay an envelope. With a sense of foreboding that made her stomach churn, hands trembling almost uncontrollably, she opened it.

_My dearest Lara, _

_I took the opportunity while you were resting this morning to slip quietly away. Lord Montague has been most accommodating and has agreed that I may start my service a little early. Under the circumstances I felt it was best that we did not linger over goodbyes; I do not wish to cause you more pain and inconvenience. _

_Please know that I never intended to hurt you, Lara, and that in all the years I have served you and your family, I have never been happier than when I have been a part of your life. Watching you develop into the beautiful and compassionate woman that you are has been one of my greatest pleasures. I am only sorry that our friendship, if I may take the liberty of calling it that, had to end so suddenly and painfully for us both. _

_I implore you, please keep yourself safe in Peru. You have always been precious to me, and I know that, in pursuit of a target you can be careless with regard to your own life. I hope that the knowledge that I am praying for your safe return will, in some way compensate for the emotional damage I have done. _

_I will always remember you, and you will forever be in my thoughts. _

_Yours, _

_James Hillary. _

As Lara reached the last lines, Hillary's elegant handwriting blurred before her eyes. How could he just leave without even bothering to say a proper goodbye? The thought that she would at least see him before he left had kept her hope alive during the tortuous early hours of the morning, when the dawn had seemed so distant a prospect and it was all she could to not to run down to the servants quarters and wake him. Now, she had been denied even that. Without even bothering to touch her breakfast, she ran from the room. She nearly collided with Mrs Bainbridge, who, worried for the Lady of the Manor's wellbeing was hovering nervously outside the door.

"Can I get you anything, Ma'am?" she asked as Lara stumbled from the room.

"Tell me when he left," Lara said bleakly. "And which way he went."

Mrs Bainbridge looked even more worried. "I'm sorry Ma'am, all I can tell you is when he left, which was about six o'clock this morning. As far as which way he went, well, there are so many routes from here to Lord Montague's residence, I couldn't begin to guess."

Lara smiled sadly. "That's good enough-he's had two hours, he's bound to be nearly there by now."

The look on Lara's face was so desolate that Mrs Bainbridge was touched deeply. "If it's any consolation, my Lady, he spent the whole of last night pacing up and down in his study. He loves you more than anything, from what I can see." Her eyes filled with tears as she looked at the young woman in front of her. "He just couldn't bear to ruin your reputation by bringing scandal on your family name."

"I don't care about the family name!" Lara retorted quickly, but not in anger. "All I care about is Hilly. How can he just walk away like that?" She brushed away the tears that threatened to spill over. Then, in the space of a heartbeat, she smiled.

"He's not going to get away with it," she said. "If I have to renounce my name and give up my home, I'm getting him back!" With that, she ran off down the corridor, leaving a bewildered Mrs Bainbridge smiling slightly after her. The old Cook hoped that the impulsive Lady Croft wasn't going to do something she'd regret.

A telephone call later and Lara had everything she needed. The helicopter that was supposed to take her to the airstrip to board the charter plane to Peru had been called in early for a somewhat more urgent mission. Lara didn't bother to inform Jacqueline Natla; she had no intention of pulling out of her commission, but there was something she had to do before she left the country. She had twenty minutes to get her things together before the helicopter landed.

Gathering all of her provisions for the trip to Peru, Lara was out waiting for the helicopter as it landed on the smooth green expanse of Croft lawn. Wasting no time, she boarded the bird and, giving instructions to the pilot, they soared back into the air. As the ground fell away beneath her, Lara hoped against hope that when she got where she was going, she would succeed in bringing Hillary home.

"Lady Croft, when we reach Beaulieu, there will be approximately half an hour before we need to get back in the air and get to the Longmoor air strip for your plane to Peru," the pilot said. Lara nodded. That should be enough time to convince Hillary to return to Croft Manor-and her.

In what seemed to be very little time the helicopter had covered the distance between Croft Manor and Lord Montague's estate. Thankfully the two houses both had an expanse of lawn at the front, which allowed a safe and easy set down of the helicopter. Almost before the helicopter had landed, Lara was out of her seat and jumping to the ground, hoping against hope that she could get to Hillary before she had to leave once more. Racing over the lawn, she ran to the front entrance of the house and rang the heavy door chain. Its gloomy toll echoed through the house and there was a slight pause before a stern looking butler opened the door.

"Good afternoon, may I help you?" The butler enquired, looking through half moon spectacles at Lara. His face registered polite disapproval as he took in her khaki shorts and green vest top and the sunglasses that were perched on top of her head.

"I'm looking for James Hillary," Lara replied, a touch breathlessly. "He has been appointed as the new…I mean, a new member of staff for the Montague household."

"And may I ask who you are?" The butler said, unconvinced by her appearance that she was anyone worth bothering with.

"My name is Lara, I mean Lady Lara Croft of the Hertfordshire Croft family. With all due respect, I'm in a bit of a hurry. Is Hillary here or not?" She was getting impatient, and no amount of breeding could hide the urgency that she felt, and her frustration that she was being held up.

"One moment, Lady Croft," the butler finally said, and beckoned her into the hallway. Before he could seek the answer to her question, the answer provided itself. Coming out of what Lara assumed was the drawing room on the left hand side of the hall, was the elderly and kindly looking Lord Montague, and behind him, looking tired yet smart in a well cut pale cream summer weight suit, was Hillary.

If Hillary was surprised to see Lara, it registered only for the barest second on his face. Lord Montague walked forward with a smile. "How can I be of assistance, dear?" he asked as he saw Lara. Unlike his butler, Lord Montague had an eye for a pretty girl and so was a little more friendly.

"Good afternoon, Lord Montague, my name is Lady Lara Croft. If you'll forgive the intrusion, I came to have a word with Mr Hillary." Lara smiled her most disarming smile, although inside she was quaking with nerves.

Lord Montague looked confused for a moment, and then, realisation seemed to dawn.

"Of course, dear, please, take Mr Hillary out to the grounds where you may talk in private." He pointed to the door at the back of the hallway. "Take all the time you need. I knew your father, we were in the forces together…splendid chap, sorry to hear of his disappearance."

"Thank you, my Lord," Lara replied hastily, feeling the pressure of time upon her.

"Well, go on man, don't keep the lady waiting!" Lord Montague chided Hillary, not unkindly.

Hillary nodded, quite unable to speak, and followed Lara into the sunlit back garden.

It seemed an eternity before Lara dared begin. Looking at Hillary, so differently dressed and so handsome in the sunlight, despite the paleness of his skin and the lines under his eyes, she knew she had made the right decision to come here. Now all she had to do was convince him. Turning to him once they were out of earshot of the manor, she began.

"Hilly," even his name made her tremble. "I want you to come back with me to Croft Manor." She laid a hand on his arm. He jumped as if she had burned him. Undeterred, she carried on. "I miss you already, and you've only been gone a night."

"Lady Croft…Lara, I can't come back to the manor as your butler. It's not permissible for me to do so now that we've-now that _I've_ broken the code." Hillary looked into Lara's eyes, and she could see the wretchedness of feeling that betrayed his calm exterior.

"I don't want you back as my butler, Hilly," Lara replied, tightening her grip on his arm. "In fact, I decline your resignation because I've come down here to tell you that you're sacked."

Hillary's look of surprise almost made Lara laugh out loud. In fact, if she wasn't so close to tears, she would have giggled. "Sacked? But I don't understand. Why did you come here to tell me that?" He made to turn away from her, but she kept hold of his arm to prevent him from moving and instead, she forced him to look at her.

"Because I want you to come back to the house as an equal, Hilly." This was it; this was the moment for which she'd flown down here. "I want you to come back as the man I'm going to marry." Placing her other hand on Hillary's cheek, she could feel the tension that he was holding in check just below the surface.

"Lara, you don't…you can't mean that you and I…you really want…?" He was, temporarily lost for words as he finally met her gaze. What he saw there seemed to take his breath away. Lara could see the unhappiness melt slowly away from his eyes and a new, softer expression of hope take its place. She nodded, herself unable to speak.

Eventually, Hillary seemed to come to a decision. "Lara, are you sure that this is what you want?" He began. "I'd never forgive myself if I thought that I'd forced you in any way to do this. Do you really want me to come back with you?" His voice was low, but its tone told Lara that he needed an answer.

"Hillary, I love you more than anyone I've ever met," she replied without hesitation. "You're the only one I've ever loved. Please, I'm begging you, come back to the manor with me." She swayed forward into his arms, and, both giddy with relief and love, they clung to each other for a long, blissful moment.

"I don't known how I could ever have thought of leaving you," Hillary said shakily when they eventually parted. Wiping his eyes, he looked deeply into Lara's once more. "But what about the family? Your reputation?"

"Bugger them!" Lara responded. "You make me happier than any son of an Earl or Baronet ever could. You always have. And it's not exactly unheard of for someone to marry out of the system, is it? It's about time we stopped marrying our cousins and got some fresh blood into the line!" She was being flippant, but in her sheer relief that Hillary wasn't going to leave her, she didn't care.

Hillary looked thoughtful for a moment. "Alright then," he said eventually. "But on two conditions." He smiled mischievously.

"Go on."

"Firstly, I do the asking." He dropped to one knee and looked back up at Lara, his eyes all seriousness. "Lara Croft, will you do me the very great honour of agreeing to become my wife?"

At the sight of Hillary's handsome, open face staring up at her, Lara, who blamed lack of breakfast for her sudden weakness, felt her own knees give way. As she tumbled towards Hillary, he caught her in a firm embrace. "Of course I will," she replied. They kissed gently but with increasing passion until at last, Lara paused to draw breath.

"What was your second condition?" She asked as they helped one another up.

Hillary smiled. "Well, I know I certainly need time to get used to the idea that you and I are going to be married, and I think a lot of your family and friends will need the same, so I suggest for the moment, that we keep our engagement quiet and gradually tell them when the time arises." At Lara's look of indignation, Hillary put a finger to her lips. "Have faith in me, Lara, it's the best way to go about it."

"But I want everyone to know!" She protested. "I'd shout it from the rooftops if I could."

Hillary pulled her close. "I know, Lara, so do I, but trust me, it's for the best for now. And anyway, I want to have you to myself for a little longer before all of your cousins, aunts and uncles descend with congratulations, or otherwise."

Reluctantly, knowing that Hillary was right, Lara nodded. "But not too long," she warned. "After all, now that I've decided to become Mrs James Hillary, I'm going to have to start practising my signature!"

"Ah yes, about that…" Hillary said sheepishly. "You see you won't actually _be_ Mrs James Hillary." At Lara's look of surprise, he continued. "Hillary isn't actually my last name, it's just what I've been called from the time I took employment with you. You were too young to remember this, but my father's name, like mine, was James Winston, and as everyone called him James in private, and your family called him Winston when he was working, I couldn't very well be called Winston while he was still serving the family with me. So to avoid confusion, I took my middle name as the name I'm known by, hence you calling me Hillary. So when you marry me, you can take your pick from Mrs James Winston, Mrs Hillary Winston or Mrs James Hillary Winston."

"I can't believe I've known you all these years and never known that!" Lara laughed. "But you've forgotten one." She smiled. "How about Mr Hillary Croft?"

Hillary gave her an old-fashioned look. "Any wife of mine will take my name." He said solemnly, then the mischievous smile returned and the put his arms around her again. As he did so, Lara gave a squeak.

"What is it, am I hurting you?" Hillary replied, suddenly worried.

"No, it's just, oh bugger, we've only got five minutes before I have to leave for the airstrip." She turned frustrated eyes to Hillary, who gave a consoling smile.

"I'm sorry, but I have to go," she said softly.

"Of course you do," Hillary replied. "I wouldn't want you to do anything else now that you've committed yourself. Can you give me five minutes to meet with Lord Montague to tell him the news?"

"No need to, old man!" Lord Montague seemed to materialise form nowhere. "Many congratulations to you both." He shook Hillary's hand and kissed Lara on the cheek. "And don't worry, until you go public, your secret's safe with me." Both of them smiled at the old Lord's sense of discretion.

Lord Montague, in his hospitality agreed to have Hillary's car sent back to Croft Manor so that he could accompany Lara to the airstrip and see her off. It seemed as though barely the blink of an eye had passed before they were landing at Longmoor. Standing together as the afternoon sun began to wane, Lara clung to Hillary for one more moment.

"I love you, Hilly," she began. "More than I can say."

Hillary looked down at the woman he had loved for so long. "Come back to me, Lara," he said softly. "Come back and make me the happiest man in the world."

And in that blissful, bittersweet moment there was no need for more words; there was just the truth of their love.

THE END

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